


Sugar Rush

by nh8343



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-30 12:27:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10876779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nh8343/pseuds/nh8343
Summary: Zitao walks into the coffee shop expecting a latte and a full night of cramming for finals. What he gets instead is a strangely endearing barista and a whole new set of problems. (A coffeeshop!AU, with a twist.)





	Sugar Rush

**Author's Note:**

> [Cross-posted from AFF] Written as a gift for my favorite sister.

 

**Day 1: Sunday**

 

Zitao wishes it was a sense of adventure that drives him to show up at the hipster coffee joint just outside of campus at 11pm on a Sunday night. If not that, then maybe some subconscious attempt at looking cooler than he actually is, some remnants of his pre-college rebellious streak finally resurfacing. But as he stumbles in through the entrance, getting the strap of his messenger bag caught in the door, Zitao has to admit the truth: he’s stressed out.

 

And he needs to be caffeinated.

 

It’s not as simple as it sounds. ( _Of course it isn’t_ , he thinks to himself sarcastically.) Imminent final exams and looming GPA requirements aside, Zitao happens to be diagnosed with a rare genetic mutation that amplifies emotions. Or, rather, it amplifies the emotions of other people in his vicinity, and projects them onto Zitao himself. On certain days he’s lucky, and it’s happiness that gets reflected back to him; others aren’t nearly as pleasant. And then there are days like today, when every pinprick of stress from those Zitao passes by buzzes beneath his own skin with an insufferable itch.

 

When Zitao says he’s stressed, he’s _stressed_.

 

And what could possibly go wrong with substituting procrastination and lost sleep with cramming and overpriced macchiatos?

 

(Zitao is intelligent enough to not be in denial. He’s perfectly aware that this plan will result in varying degrees of catastrophe. And that’s why this will be his first _and_ last near-midnight coffee run.)

 

(Or so he tells himself.)

 

He manages to yank his bag’s strap free of the door, muttering some choice words a bit louder than necessary, and stalks up to the counter in a huff. Zitao is completely and utterly _done_ with today.

 

The young man behind the counter is staring at him with an unimpressed eyebrow raised high on his forehead and one hand frozen with a pen in its grip. As Zitao gets closer, he can see that the guy’s been doodling something ━a cow? A pineapple? He has no idea━ onto one of the flimsy napkins. Knowing the type of people who get hired here, the guy probably thinks he’s an artistic genius.

 

“Can I help you?” Mr. Unimpressed asks flatly, and Zitao realizes he may have spent too much time trying to decipher the cow/pineapple/whatever and forgotten to order.

 

“Right, sorry.” Zitao’s eyes skim over the handwritten menu on the wall. “I’ll have a small chai tea latte, please.”

 

Mr. Unimpressed somehow manages to sound even more unimpressed when he tells Zitao his total, after mumbling something that sounds suspiciously like “of course you will”.

 

While Zitao’s sugary excuse for coffee is being made, he leans against the counter and really takes in his surroundings. It’s not as if he doesn’t know the place; he’s come before during the occasional afternoon, enjoying the quiet atmosphere and small group of customers here much more than the Starbucks down the street. Now, though, the place is deserted. It feels like Zitao is the only one up this late in the entire city, the barista aside. Speaking of the barista…

 

Zitao’s eyes shift back to Mr. Unimpressed, watching as he effortlessly whips up a latte. He’s tall, so Zitao can’t see everything he’s doing, but it still seems like he could do this in his sleep. ( _Maybe he_ is _half-asleep right now_ , Zitao muses. _Otherwise I don’t know how he makes it through the late-night shift._ )

 

He snaps back to attention when a steaming cup is placed in front of him, and he takes it with a “thank you” before picking a seat at the table nearest to the counter. This is what Zitao has been dreading; there’s a huge difference between planning a caffeine-fueled cramming session and actually going through with it. He can almost hear his own internal groaning.

 

Zitao sets his drink down on the table and slides his bag off of his shoulder, which goes well until the strap that was caught in the door earlier decides to break, dumping a small avalanche of books and papers across the floor.

 

He’s so surprised by the sudden stroke of bad luck that for a few long moments he stands frozen in the center of the chaos, clutching his now-empty bag to his chest. In the silence that follows, Zitao feels frustrated tears prick at the back of his eyes, the day’s stress dominoing through his brain to the point that he’s too upset to even pick up his things.

 

“Hey...are you okay?” a voice asks uncertainly, and Zitao recovers enough to register that Mr. Unimpressed is talking to him, looking more concerned than judgmental.

 

( _Human decency?_ Zitao is more than a little shocked. _Someone going out of their way to be nice?_ )

 

He manages to (mostly) keep it together as he lets out a small “not really”.

 

Then Mr. Unimpressed does something that nearly leaves Zitao reeling; he actually comes out from behind the counter, gets down on his hands and knees, and starts picking up Zitao’s mess of scattered papers.

 

_Which part of heaven did you fall from???_

 

“Here,” Mr. Unimpressed tells him, handing him a pile that’s more or less stacked up. “Better?”

 

Zitao nods fervently, and takes the papers mutely until he remembers his manners. “Thank you…” he starts before looking at the barista’s name tag. “Thank you, Kris.”

 

Mr. Unimpressed ━Kris, Zitao corrects himself━ gives him a half-smile and says, “well, you’re good at looking like a kicked puppy,” which would have been a bit offensive if not for the teasing tone it was said in. Zitao blinks once, twice, and blurts out the first thing that comes to his mind.

“And you’re good at drawing,” he half-lies, vaguely gesturing toward the napkin on the counter. “That’s a nice pineapple.”

 

“Cow,” Kris corrects him with another smile.

 

Zitao is already planning his next midnight coffee run.

  
  
  


**Day 2: Monday**

 

His next trip ends up being the following evening, and it’s as unnecessary as his drink ━this time, a white chocolate mocha━ is sugary. But Zitao has found that there are few people around his age (and he assumes Kris is around his age) who are genuinely kind without being so spineless that they get stepped on. Maybe he’s jumping to conclusions, considering he’s only had what hardly qualifies as one conversation with the tall barista. It still doesn’t hurt to see if he’s right.

Of course, that could just be Zitao’s optimism talking. Today is one of his happy days, when a mother’s joy in looking at her infant daughter puts an extra skip in his step, and the still-youthful giddiness of first love blossoming around campus draws a smile to his face.

 

Kris looks less unimpressed this time when Zitao walks through the door, though the same can’t be said for the way he just audibly snorts when Zitao places his order. The latter is in a good enough mood that it doesn’t bother him (or maybe it’s just because it’s Kris, and even though he doesn’t come off as the warmest guy, he certainly doesn’t come off as mean).

 

Zitao is halfway through sipping his mocha when the sound of chair legs squeaking on the floor draws his eyes up from his history notes. To his surprise, Kris has taken the other chair, and is sitting in it backwards the way that only wannabe bad-boys do when they’re trying to be cool.

 

( _He’s_ not _cool,_ Zitao repeats to himself a few times. _Definitely not_.)

 

“So,” Kris starts. He has his arms crossed over the back of the chair, head tilted to the side as he regards Zitao. “You’re a new customer?”

 

It takes a moment for Zitao to register that he’s being spoken to before he responds with a quick “No!” Kris flinches a bit, and Zitao is quick to follow up in a more reasonable tone, “No. I, um, come here a lot actually, but yesterday was the first time I’ve come so late. Finals, you know.”

 

Kris nods, and Zitao fully expects him to get up...but it doesn’t happen.

 

“Shouldn’t you, um...be behind the counter?” Zitao asks him. He doesn’t want to sound rude, but he also doesn’t want Kris’s absence to drive away potential customers. The coffee joint has enough issues making a profit when it has to compete with that damn down-the-street Starbucks.

 

But Kris doesn’t seem too concerned. “No one else but you shows up this late at night. They’re normally paying me to wait around and entertain myself.” He shrugs. “What else am I going to do besides stand there and deface our napkin supply?”

 

“Hey, those are good drawings,” Zitao objects. He’s not sure why he gets the compulsive need to overexaggerate the other’s talent, as long as it makes him smile.

 

And smile Kris does, the most genuine one that Zitao’s seen on him. “You know, you’re alright...Zitao, was it?” he asks.

 

Zitao is lost for a few seconds as to when he gave his own name, but he vaguely remembers it came out during the end of their brief meeting yesterday. He fights down an answering grin of his own, and half-succeeds when he answers, “And you’re not bad yourself, Kris.”

 

“It’s Yifan, actually,” the man in question admits. “The name tag is an alias. I hope you don’t mind I didn’t correct you earlier?”

 

_Yifan._

 

“Not at all.”

 

_...Yifan._

  
  


**Day 3: Tuesday:**

 

Being late to class is just icing on the cake of Zitao’s bad day. He’s rushing across campus, mentally yelling things at those he passes along the lines of _How can you move this slow?_ and _Did you really think that disaster was good enough to wear in public?_ and, most commonly, _Get out of my way!!_

 

The problem is that every time Zitao shoves past a slow-moving pedestrian, their anger bubbles over and leeches onto _him_ , so he’s stuck in a vicious cycle of frustration. He’d honestly enjoy just punching someone in the face at this point, but considering the martial arts lessons he’s been taking since he was eight, he might snap the kid’s neck. And Zitao doesn’t want to spend the next 20 years of his life behind bars.

 

(There are, after all, no lattes in prison.)

 

He’s nearing the end of his sprint when something catches his eye, and he risks a collision with the girl in front of him to look.

 

He almost thinks he’s imagining it when he sees Yifan leaning against a cement wall, scribbling in a notebook.

 

If it were any other day, Zitao would be halfway over to him already, but he can’t afford to be any later than he already is when it’s this close to final exams. Two things are for sure, though: Yifan goes to his same college, and Zitao needs to talk to him tonight.

  
  


**Day 4: Wednesday**

 

Zitao doesn't get his chance. He ends up getting ready to leave his dorm an hour later than he usually does, and the second the clock hits midnight, he feels the Shift. A tingle runs down his spine, and for a fleeting moment he feels nothing at all...until a new emotion takes its place ━ one that Zitao knows all too well.

 

Loneliness.

 

These are the worst days. Anger and stress aren’t always the easiest to deal with, but they’re nothing compared to the emptiness he feels now. And what’s even worse? Even if Zitao was completely isolated, with no one else’s emotions to soak up, he wouldn’t be able to escape this gaping vacuum of loneliness. Other people didn’t create it; they just made it worse.

 

The moment it hits him, Zitao walks right back into his dorm room. For now, he can sleep through at least eight or nine hours of this suffering, dreams being a much-needed escape. As for the rest of the day...he has to stay here. The fewer people he comes in contact with, the better, no matter how much he can’t afford to skip his classes.

 

Zitao’s last thought before he goes to sleep is that he wouldn’t get to see Yifan.

 

Thankfully, his roommate ━a lanky blonde by the name of Oh Sehun━ knows about Zitao’s condition. He must have understood when Zitao purposefully slept in, because when the latter finally wakes up, he finds a note waiting for him on top of his dresser.

 

 _Tao_ -

_Figured it was one of those days._

_Got some food for you in the fridge._

_Call me if things get bad._

_-Your Awesome Roommate_

 

The rest of the day is an attempt to drown out the melancholy feeling settled in his chest with studying, loud music pumping through his earbuds, and the occasional power-nap.

 

It’s not the first time Zitao wishes he was normal.

  
  


**Day 5: Thursday**

 

This time, when Zitao comes in through the coffee shop door, Yifan is the one to greet him first. “Hey, you’re alive,” He says, and though his words themselves are nonchalant, his face gives away that he was worried. ( _Worried? About me?_ )

 

“I was wondering after I didn't see you two days in a row,” Yifan continues. “Everything okay?”

 

The lie rolls easily off Zitao’s tongue, nearly automatic after years of practice. “I was sick. Nothing serious, but I’m feeling better now.”

 

Yifan gives him a nod. There’s a smile on his face as he says, “Good. Now, what’ll it be today?”

 

“One small caramel macchiato, please.”

 

This time, Yifan doesn’t even bother hiding his reaction. He shakes his head good-naturedly and tells Zitao, “Go have a seat. I’ll bring it over in a minute.”

 

Zitao doesn’t know exactly what he’s done to deserve special treatment, but he can’t say he doesn’t enjoy it.

 

He’s just finishing pulling out his chemistry notes when Yifan plops into the chair next to him, setting the drink down in front of Zitao.

 

“What are you studying?” Yifan asks. He leans over to scan the mess of papers, shaking his head when he sees the subject. “Gross, chemistry. I remember when I took it two years ago; it was my least favorite━ Hang on…”

 

Zitao looks at the old test that Yifan has his eyes trained on, and doesn’t understand its significance until Yifan laughs, sounding more than a bit incredulous when he says, “And that was my professor. How about that, huh? We go to the same university.”

 

Zitao nearly smacks himself in the head for forgetting. “That’s actually what I was going to talk to you about,” he admits. “I saw you on the way to class on Tuesday, but I was running late.”

 

Yifan is still quietly laughing at himself. “You’d think I would have asked. I mean, there are like three universities nearby, but as obvious guesses go…” He trails off, still shaking his head. “So, let me guess: first-year English major?”

 

(Zitao is just a little offended. He mentally scoffs.)

 

“Second-year music major, actually, and do I _look_ like a freshman to you?”

 

“I was _kidding_ , Zitao. Here, I won’t make you guess: I’m a fourth-year business major.”

 

Fourth year? Zitao feels his mood dim considerably. Has he really picked a friendship so temporary that it will be over in a month after the spring graduation?

 

That negative thought is pushed aside when Yifan suddenly perks up. “Hey, that reminds me,” he says, reaching into the back pocket of his jeans, “I have something for you. Fridays are my day off, so I made sure I finished by today.”

 

A question is on the tip of Zitao’s tongue until he sees the paper that Yifan hands him. It’s been folded several times to fit into a pocket, and there’s a few smudges from an eraser, but it’s easy to make out what it is: it’s a drawing of Zitao’s face. And it’s actually pretty good.

 

 _A drawing...of me?_ For _me?_

 

Yifan is giving him a warm smile. “I figured you were sick, and I thought this would cheer you up. Of course, I couldn’t actually give it to you _when_ you were sick...but hopefully you like it anyway.”

 

Zitao can’t believe it. “Of course I do,” he says, and means it. He’s so unbelievably happy right now, he can’t think about or feel anything else. It’s like Yifan’s happiness is infectious, the way his smile has Zitao’s lips curving into one of his own. It’s almost as if━

 

Wait.

 

Today is not a happiness day. Today is an anger day. Zitao is not angry. He’s happy...because Yifan is happy. The only reason he would be reflecting Yifan’s emotions instead of his default ones would be if…

 

He panics.

  
  


**Day 6: Friday:**

 

Zitao is still panicking when he wakes up the next morning. His eyes are wide, and his knuckles whiten with how tightly he grips the bedsheets.

 

He can’t be thinking these... _things_ about Yifan. He can’t be feeling that way about him, as small as that feeling may be.

 

( _You can’t be one of them,_ his mother tells him. _You can like the things you enjoy, Zitao.  You can like fashion, shopping, and your gossip magazines. But you_ cannot _like another boy. Understood?_ )

 

He refuses to believe it, even if the proof was shoved in his face Thursday evening.

 

More time must pass than he thinks while lying there, because Sehun suddenly asks from the opposite side of the room, “Hey, it’s not one of _those_ days again already, is it?”

 

“No.” It comes out in a squeak.

 

Sehun is at his side in a second, sitting on the edge of his bed. “Tao, what’s wrong,” he says. It’s not a question. Sehun can read him like an open book.

 

“Nothing’s wrong; I’m fine.” It might be the weakest lie in recorded human history.

 

“I’m serious.”

 

A defeated sigh escapes Zitao’s lips. “Something’s bothering me, that’s all. It’s just something stupid.”

 

“A crush.”

 

Zitao keeps his mouth clamped tightly shut. If he keeps silent, Sehun might lose interest and go back to whatever he gets up to on his laptop. What he doesn’t expect is Sehun’s next question.

 

“So...what’s his name?”

 

Zitao reels away from his friend as though he’s been burned.

 

“What the hell even gave you that idea!? I thought we were friends, Sehun, and now here you are accusing me of━”

 

“Tao.”

 

“We’ve been roommates for two years, and friends for six! Does that mean nothing to you, you━?”

 

“ _Tao_.”

 

“And even if it _was_ true, how would you know, huh? Thinking you know me better than I know myself is just━”

 

“Huang Zitao!”

 

Sehun doesn't yell. He whines, he groans in protest, but he rarely yells. So when Zitao hears the sharp way his name is called, he shuts up immediately, letting the other put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

 

“Listen to me,” Sehun says. He sounds uncharacteristically serious. “You said it yourself: I’ve known you for six years. I’ve had a hunch, and with the way you’ve been so bouncy and giggly lately...I figured it made sense.”

 

Zitao tries to swallow the lump in his throat. “But…” he says, in hardly a whisper, “He’s a _boy_.”

 

“I don’t know exactly what you’ve been told growing up, but there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that.” Sehun’s grip on his shoulder tightens protectively. “You deserve to be happy. And I’m one of many people who would stay by your side no matter who that person you’re happy with is. Got it?”

 

Zitao nods, not trusting himself to speak.

 

“Alright, enough with the speeches; get up. I’m not letting your lazy ass miss two days of classes this week.”

 

Zitao has never appreciated Sehun more than in this moment.

  
  


**Day 7: Saturday:**

 

Yifan doesn’t even let him order this time around.

 

“Sit down,” he tells Zitao as soon as the latter walks in. He’s already in the other chair, a steaming cup sitting on the table in front of him.

 

“What’s this?” The moment Zitao sits down, the cup is pushed into his space, instead.

 

“This,” Yifan tells him, “is an upgrade from the sugar-with-added-sugar monstrosities you order every time you come. Straight up, no cream, no sweeteners, no distractions: coffee. On the house.”

 

Zitao eyes the drink in distaste, but it’s not like he’s rude enough to refuse the gift. “Here goes nothing,” he says, and cautiously takes a sip.

 

It’s horrid.

 

He fights the urge to spit the hot liquid all over Yifan (wouldn’t _that_ be wonderfully ironic), and manages to swallow it down. His eye may have twitched a few times, but he should be able to get away with a white lie.

 

“It’s really good,” he says with a half-hearted thumbs-up.

 

Yifan is biting his lip, clearly trying not to laugh. “Right. And now that you completely hated that…” He brings his other arm up ━the one that’s been out of sight for this whole exchange━ and sets yet another cup on the table, a drink that Zitao recognizes immediately. “I also bought you this one.”

 

Zitao looks between the macchiato and Yifan, his eyes wide. “How did you…?”

 

“Know it was your favorite? Easy; you looked the happiest when you were drinking this one.”

 

Zitao’s heart melts faster than the caramel in his macchiato. “Thank you.”

 

“It’s no problem,” Yifan tells him, waving it off. “And speaking of no problem, I thought you might want some help studying? It’s fine if you don’t need my help, but I’m exempting most of my finals, and it seems like you have a ton of stuff considering you come to get caffeinated every night.”

 

 _Yes, that’s_ definitely _why. If he only knew._

 

“That would be amazing, but...you really don’t have to.”

 

“Anything for my favorite customer.”

 

Zitao really hopes he isn’t blushing.

 

“I’m your _only_ customer, you know.”

 

“Exactly.”

 

~*~

 

Zitao’s night, surprisingly enough, doesn’t end with his coffee trip. Apparently one of Yifan’s friends ━Jongdae, was it?━ is throwing a party, and it will be “good for Zitao’s health” to go and take a break from studying.

 

Needless to say, Zitao has reservations. He’s not exactly the partying type, and this close to exams it feels wrong to be doing anything beyond studying and sleeping. Still, he trusts Yifan, and what’s the worst that could happen?

 

( _Why do those sound like famous last words?_ )

 

The party is in full swing when they get there, and Jongdae greets them at the door with a wide grin and a plastic cup in hand. (“It’s just juice,” he reassures Zitao. “I made sure to get a glass of it before it was no longer trustworthy.”)

 

After a quick catch-up with Yifan and even quicker introduction to Zitao, Jongdae disappears back into the crowd with a goodbye and a cheerful “don’t drink the punch!”

 

Yifan leans close to Zitao’s ear so that the latter can hear him. “He’s probably running off to make out with that midget boyfriend of his,” Yifan tells him, distaste plain and clear.

 

Zitao braces himself for the worst.

 

“I just don’t get what Jongdae sees in Baekhyun; he’s such a little twerp. To each their own, I guess; he’s never been happier.”

 

Five seconds later, and Zitao is lighter than air.

 

~*~

 

They end up on the edge of the dance floor, which is actually just the apartment’s living room. Yifan tells him that he should experience the atmosphere of a party, but he doesn’t have to dance and/or embarrass himself if he doesn’t want to. It’sa sweet notion, and would have gone a lot better if there wasn’t a girl who kept pressing inappropriately against Zitao’s side, openly flirting with him.

 

He’s sure she’s a very nice girl, and maybe she would have been less touchy-feely if she hadn’t had a few drinks. But it’s hard to remember that when Zitao has asked her to stop quite a few times and now he’s just getting uncomfortable.

 

Then the strangest thing happens. All of a sudden, Zitao’s discomfort is replaced with a surge of what feels like jealousy. It’s a confusing feeling: who is he jealous of? Why is it this strong?

 

...And then he looks to his left and sees Yifan glaring at the girl with barely-concealed anger.

 

_Oh. OH._

 

Zitao’s mind goes blank for the shortest of moments, but then he feels giddy butterflies in his stomach, even through the reflected jealousy.

 

Yifan is okay with his friends liking the same gender.

 

Yifan is jealous that someone is interested in Zitao.

 

And Zitao, for the first time, thinks he might just have a chance with him.

  
  


**Day 8: Sunday:**

 

Zitao gets to the coffee shop earlier than usual, even before Yifan’s shift starts. He orders a latte from the blank-faced barista and sits in his usual spot, eyes constantly flickering to the clock on the far wall.

 

Today is a sadness day, and while it’s not nearly as bad as the loneliness, it’s not something Zitao enjoys. He’d rather be near Yifan as soon as possible so that the other's contentment can be the only thing he’ll feel.

 

At 10:45, Yifan walks in through the door. The other barista gets ready to leave, but Zitao isn’t focused on her exit. He’s overwhelmed with a wave of despair stronger than he’s felt in a while, to the point that his heart physically hurts. The latte in his hand nearly drops to the floor.

 

Yifan doesn’t even make his way behind the counter; he sits immediately in his usual spot next to Zitao, abnormally silent. They’re the only two left in the building, and now Zitao is undeniably sure that the source of the sadness is Yifan himself. His attempted solution has now made his situation even worse.

 

They don’t make eye contact at first. Yifan silently plays with his fingers, while Zitao is still reeling from the unrelenting current of the other’s misery.

 

“Is something wrong?” Zitao finally asks, breaking the silence. He already knows the answer.

 

“My grandfather passed away this morning.” Yifan isn’t playing with his fingers anymore. He’s looking down at his feet, hands clasped tightly together. “We weren’t close, but...it’s strange not having him here.”

 

What can Zitao say to that? “I’m so sorry,” he blurts reflexively, even if it’s not his fault.

 

Yifan shakes his head. “I’ll be fine; don’t worry about me. I’d really just like to help you study so I don’t have to think about it.”

 

His words would almost be believable if Zitao couldn't still feel the truth.

 

Today’s subject of Zitao’s frustration is calculus, which puts an even stronger grimace on Yifan’s face than the chemistry notes did. Zitao tries his best, at first, to distract him with practice problem after practice problem, but it’s nearly impossible to do when he himself can hardly solve them through the fog of the other’s sadness.

 

Twenty minutes in, and after four tries of trying to solve one integral, Zitao snaps.

 

“I can’t do this!” he says angrily, throwing his pen. It ricochets off the table with a harsh _crack!_ and clatters to the floor.

 

Yifan jerks away from him, startled, before he insists, “Yes, you can.” He sounds surprisingly calm for how much sorrow is radiating off of him. “You’ve almost got it, and━”

 

“No, I _don’t_! I don’t understand any of it! And now I’m going to fail my finals because I’m an idiot who can’t figure this out!”

 

Somewhere in the corner of his brain, Zitao is horrified that he’s yelling at the one person who was nice enough to help him. But right now, he feels stripped raw from overwhelming emotions, like an open wound, and there’s no way out for the pain except this projection of anger. Zitao is desperate, miserable, and he thinks he might burst into tears in the next few seconds.

 

He can’t stay here any longer.

 

Yifan is still looking at him with wide, shocked eyes, and Zitao’s bottom lip quivers just noticeably as he says, “I’m useless.”

Yifan’s expression softens. “Zitao, you are _not_ useless.”

 

But Zitao can’t even pause to wonder at the sincerity in the other’s words. With one last mutter of “I have to go,” he shoves his things into his bag and leaves.

 

He’s not sure which hurts more: the deep-rooted feelings of inadequacy that have resurfaced with a vengeance, or the pang in his heart when Yifan had looked at him like that ━ like he wished Zitao could see himself like Yifan himself did.

 

Zitao makes it twenty feet from the entrance before he breaks down.

  


**Day 9: Monday:**

 

Pacing nervously outside of the coffee shop, Zitao tries to go over his planned apology in his head. _I’m sorry_ , he’ll tell Yifan. _I was having a bad day, and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you._ Maybe follow it up with an _It won’t happen again_ , and worst case, _I understand if you don’t want to help me again_. He really hopes it doesn’t come to that.

 

Zitao’s hand hovers over the doorknob for a third time, but he still hesitates, letting it drip back down to his side. He knows he should stop acting like a coward and just go in, but what if━

 

The door swings open. Yifan’s standing there, arms crossed and foot propping the door open, and the expression on his face is hard to read. “You do realize the entire front of the building is glass, right?” he asks, and Zitao feels like a complete moron.

 

“...Right.”

 

Yifan’s foot holds the door open a little wider. “Finally coming in?”

 

It would be rude to refuse the invitation.

 

The inside of the coffee shop is as empty as ever, and Zitao is relieved when the stress that’s been plaguing him all day is replaced by a steady hum of Yifan’s contentment. There’s worry underneath it, but it’s an empathetic sort of worry. Not like the baseless drain that’s gone on since this morning.

 

It only takes a minute for Yifan to quietly make Zitao’s requested cappuccino, and then they’re sitting in their usual spots, each waiting for the other to break the silence.

 

“I’m sorry,” Zitao says after a few long moments. He almost sounds as ashamed as he feels.

 

“It’s fine. You were under a lot of stress, so━”

 

“There’s something I should tell you,” Zitao blurts out, and immediately questions his life choices. Yifan was literally handing him his apology on a golden platter. But...the rehearsed lines that he’s been mentally revising all day suddenly seem shallow in the other’s presence. Yifan deserves the truth.

 

So Zitao tells him.

 

He tells him about waking up every morning with the fear of a deep, dark loneliness holding him captive, a fear that sometimes settles into bitter acceptance. He tells him about the few shining days that almost make his situation worth it, when he can feel everyone’s smallest happiness as his own. He tells him about the incident yesterday when his self-control had shattered.

 

And Yifan...listens. He nods slowly when Zitao is finished, processing what he’s been told. “I’ve heard rumors of something similar,” he admits. “Still, this...this is a lot to take in. But I believe you, Zitao.” Then his eyebrows crease together. “I just don’t understand how you’re always in such a good mood if that’s what you’re going through.”

 

Zitao takes another sip of his drink, opens his mouth to make an excuse, and what comes out is, “I like coming here because then I can just feel your emotions instead of everyone else’s.”

 

Now is one of those times he wishes his self-control wasn’t the first thing that nervousness made him lose.

 

The furrow between Yifan’s brows grows more pronounced. “ _My_ emotions?” He asks, sounding genuinely confused. “Why would you just be feeling _my_ emotions?”

 

“Um.”

 

_I’m blushing. I have to be blushing. Kill me now._

 

“Zitao, I mean it. That doesn’t make any sense after what you just told me.”

 

_Throw me off the highest cliff and let me sink to the bottom of the ocean where no one will ever find my body._

 

“If someone like me finds someone else that they have, um...a connection with, then we can feel all of that person’s emotions instead of whatever it’s supposed to be that day.” Zitao is sure he’s gone beet-red.

 

“...A special connection.”

 

Yifan runs the words through his head again. Zitao looks anywhere but at Yifan. Yifan looks intently at Zitao. Zitao looks at Yifan looking at him.

 

Yifan’s eyes widen to a comical size as the realization sets in. “ _Oh_.”

 

The exit is suddenly looking very appealing.

 

But the reaction Zitao gets from Yifan is not what he expects. The latter brings up a hand to cover what Zitao sees is a wide grin. “So that’s how it is?” Yifan asks, and Zitao feels butterflies in his stomach that aren’t his own.

 

“You’re not mad?” He’s shocked. “But I’m...I’m not a girl, and I didn’t think━”

 

“Zitao,” Yifan cuts him off. “I honestly don’t care what you have down there.” He gestures vaguely to Zitao’s crotch, which doesn’t exactly lessen the other’s embarrassment. “I care what’s in _here_ .” A light tap to Zitao’s forehead. “And in _here_.” A finger pressed to a spot just left of his sternum. “And when it comes to you, I like it all.”

 

Zitao thinks his heart is going to burst. “That…” he says earnestly, “was the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” And a second later, “Please go out with me.”

 

Today, Zitao’s coffee is on the house.

  
  


**Day 10: Tuesday:**

 

Zitao goes through his happiness day in a bit of a daze. Some of what the professors are saying gets absorbed by his distracted brain (hopefully most of which is important for the final exams that are still coming up), but otherwise he floats through it on his own personal cloud nine.

 

His phone buzzes twice as he walks back to the dorm, bringing a smile to his face when he sees who texted him.

 

_Yifan._

 

He taps back a quick reply to the ‘How’s your day been? :)’ he’s received, and is still mid-conversation with the message’s sender when he flops onto his bed. It’s how Sehun finds him half an hour later: head propped up on an overstuffed panda pillow, bag lying carelessly in the middle of the floor, and giggling as he reads another text on the phone’s glowing screen.

 

Sehun snorts at the sight. “What’s got you so blissed out?” he asks. “Finally got the guy?”

 

It’s obviously meant as a joke, but Zitao thankfully doesn’t have to be kidding when he responds cheerily, “Yep!”

 

“Yeah, very funny, Tao. But seriously...wait, you’re being serious, aren’t you?”

 

Another high-pitched giggle is Sehun’s only answer, and he resigns himself to the other side of the room with his laptop, grumbling something about ungrateful roommates.

 

It takes a little under five minutes for Sehun to get fed up with the aura of blooming first love (also known as Zitao’s incessant sighs and laughter).

 

“Okay, that’s it,” he says, shutting his laptop, and it’s the only warning Zitao gets before the phone is suddenly snatched out of his hands.

 

He sits up in an instant, protesting, “Hey, give it back!” but Sehun has none of it; he keeps Zitao at bay with one hand while he types in his own message with the other. Zitao’s struggling amounts to nothing.

 

Finally, his roommate lets him grab it back. “I’m going to Jongin’s room,” Sehun says decisively, tucking his computer under his arm. “Don’t have too much fun without me.” And he’s out the door.

 

Zitao takes a moment to brace himself before looking at the message the other sent on his behalf. But as it turns out, he didn’t need to worry: rather than humiliating him, the text puts a smile back on his face.

 

**To: Yifan <3**

This is Zitao’s roommate. I’m happy you 2 are gross and in love, but please get a room. -OSH

  
  


**Day 11: Wednesday**

 

Zitao’s pretty sure today is another happiness day, but it’s gotten harder to tell over this past week ━ spending more time with Yifan and being distracted with thoughts of him when he’s alone almost makes every day seem that way.

 

It’s their first date outside of the coffee shop. Zitao shouldn’t be nervous because it’s Yifan, but he can’t help being nervous because it’s _Yifan_. Stupidly handsome Yifan with his mile-long legs and easy smile and cool-guy act that so often fails to disguise what a massive dork he actually is.

 

Zitao won’t forgive himself if he messes this up.

 

They’ve decided beforehand to do something that each of them enjoys, though the exact nature of the activities remain a secret until it’s their respective turns.

 

Yifan goes first (though not without insisting that Zitao go first. Multiple times, and facing increasing levels of puppy-dog eyes). Zitao doesn’t know what to expect when they meet up and walk together to the shopping complex just off-campus. He’s kept in the dark until they stop in front of the laser tag place wedged in between two outlet clothing stores.

 

“I’m pretty much an expert at this,” Yifan tells him. “You up for it?”

 

 _First time for everything, I guess._ “Sure, why not?”

 

Zitao annihilates every single competitor.

 

(Yifan, surprisingly, isn’t mad. He looks at Zitao in awe, who thinks Yifan’s going to say something really meaningful until what comes out of his mouth is, “I have such good taste.”)

 

(Zitao whacks him hard on the shoulder and fails to hide the red on his face.)

 

Zitao’s choice is shopping at the same complex, which is code for “you can hold my bags and tell me I look good in things while I actually shop.” It’s nice when Yifan humors him, and seems to have a pretty good time, because Zitao is already planning to bring him along more often ━ the number of bags Yifan can hold with just one of his hands is both ridiculous and extremely convenient.

 

They both walk away from the date with light hearts and a promise to see each other that night at the usual place.

 

Zitao doesn’t even need the extra emotions from the other people rushing past him to feel like the happiest person alive.

  
  


**Day 12: Thursday:**

 

It’s a lucky thing that Yifan is a good listener, because on anger days like this one, Zitao is certainly a talker. As they lean against the empty café’s counter, Yifan’s presence takes the edge off his earlier fuming, but it doesn’t mean that Zitao feels any less of a need to rant about certain blemishes on the otherwise flawless face of his existence (blemishes also known as his calculus professor and the freshman who’s now consistently stealing his spot in the library).

 

He’s halfway through verbally roasting the next person on his list when he suddenly trails off. Now that he’s taken a moment to look at Yifan’s face, he’s actually not sure if the other has been listening to a single thing he’s said. And if Zitao didn’t know better, he’d say there was pure adoration in Yifan’s expression.

 

“Why are you staring?” he asks, feeling scrutinized.

 

“Because you’re cute when you’re mad.” He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

 

“Because I’m…?” Zitao finds himself tongue-tied, face flushing at an alarming rate. “You can’t just say things like that out of the blue!”

 

(He knows they’re both aware it’s a blatant lie.)

 

Yifan’s smile is teasing as he leans into the other’s personal space. “And does that mean I can’t kiss you out of the blue either?”

 

 _Well, at least this isn’t a bad way to go_ , Zitao consoles himself as he promptly loses the ability to breathe.

 

“Zitao? Hey, I was just asking; I didn’t mean to, um...break you. Are you━ _mmph_?”

 

The question is cut off by Zitao’s answer, as he leans forward to press his lips gently against Yifan’s own. It’s chaste as kisses go, but Zitao can feel his entire body practically sing, feel his heart beat fast enough that its pulse flutters just beneath his skin. He feels _alive_.

 

They separate with a soft sigh, but don’t make much of an effort to back away from each other. Zitao wonders when Yifan’s hands had reached up to cup his face because here they are now, thumbs gently tracing Zitao’s cheekbones.

 

“Does that answer your question?” Zitao asks softly, shy despite himself.

 

Yifan only hums, tilting the other’s head up so he can kiss him again. This time, it leaves Zitao breathless.

 

(It’s enough to make him not even care about the glass showcasing them to anyone who might walk by.)

 

And Zitao...Zitao could really get used to this.

 

~*~

 

It’s not until near 1 am that Zitao’s mood plummets, suddenly hit with realization.

 

Yifan notices the change immediately, asking, “What’s wrong?”

 

“I told you about the Switch that happens at midnight, right?” At Yifan’s nod, Zitao continues, “There’s only one case where a pattern occurs. If I get two happiness days, there’s always something random after that, and then…” A shiver runs down his spine. “It’s guaranteed to be loneliness. The minute I leave, it’ll hit me.”

 

For the hundredth, thousandth time, Zitao curses it all. It’s bad enough that he’s forced to live a life of undesired empathy, but it’s just cruel to force him to go through days like the upcoming one. He’s not sure if it’s better or worse that he can always see them coming.

 

“Leave _me_ , you mean,” Yifan says, and it takes Zitao a moment to follow what he’s implying before he nods. “If that’s the case, then just come back with me to my apartment.”

 

And really, Zitao tries to be mature about it, but he can’t help the way the tips of his ears flame red. “If you’re okay with it? But normally I cut class on these days, and I wouldn’t want to force you to skip…”

 

Yifan winks ━legitimately winks; who actually does that in real life?━ at him. “Fridays are my days off, remember?”

 

“Your night shift doesn’t even start until like eleven at night, you ridiculous━”

 

“ _Ssh_.” A single finger is pressed to Zitao’s lips. “I sounded cool. Keep it that way.”

 

They leave together at around 2, and the walk to Yifan’s apartment is shorter than Zitao expected. It’s on campus, so the building isn’t actually that far from his own dorm. Belatedly, Zitao remembers to send Sehun a text telling him where he’s staying and not to worry (and subsequently ignores the suggestive ‘use protection ;)’ he gets in response).

 

Yifan makes Zitao take his bed, though not without protests by the latter. And while maybe there’s a tiny part of Zitao that wishes Yifan would curl up next to him instead, he thinks it’s too soon. In fact, he actually loves that Yifan is being such a gentleman about the whole situation.

 

Zitao falls asleep that night with the protection of Yifan’s happiness keeping him warm.

  
  


**Day 13: Friday:**

 

The smell of bacon and eggs frying draws Zitao back to the land of the living, pulling him to sit up as though with an invisible string. There’s a few moments where he’s disoriented ( _Where am I? And whose clothes am I━? Right. Yifan._ ), but then he drags himself out of bed and into the apartment’s main room. He’s too tired to even care that he probably looks like a hot mess.

 

“Hey, you’re awake!” Yifan is at his side in an instant, pressing a brief kiss to his cheek. “I can finally introduce you to my roommates.”

 

Zitao turns his bleary eyes to the kitchen area, and sees two other young men that look to be around Yifan’s age. The one currently making the feast that convinced Zitao to abandon his beauty sleep turns around with a smile. “Hi, Zitao!” he says brightly. “I’m Yixing. And this is Luhan, but I wouldn’t expect too much out of him this early in the morning.”

 

Luhan lifts his head a fraction of an inch from where he’s sitting at the table, looking like a semi-conscious puppy. A tired sound issues from his lips, but that’s all the greeting Zitao gets from him.

 

(In all honesty, Luhan looks like Zitao feels. He can’t really blame the guy.)

 

Fortunately, the breakfast tastes as good as it smells. It’s perfect: Zitao gets to hear embarrassing stories about Yifan via Yixing, and he’s also too out of it to be embarrassed by Yifan’s excessive PDA.

 

 _Note to self: boyfriend is clingy when sleepy. I’ve successfully acquired a cuddler_.

 

He gets to spend the rest of the day in the comfort of Yifan’s (and occasionally his roommates’) presence, and by the end of it, the thought crosses his mind for the first time that his condition isn’t so bad after all. How can it be, if it’s the reason he ended up right here?

 

If this is what falling in love with Yifan feels like, Zitao wishes he would have gone for that midnight coffee run ages ago.

  
  


**Day 14: Saturday:**

 

Precisely half a second after Zitao realizes the next day will mark two weeks since he first met Yifan, he also remembers something that he’s been ignoring this whole time: Yifan is a senior. After finals next week, the school year will be over...and so will Yifan’s time at the university.

 

And it’s just Zitao’s luck that both thoughts strike him as he’s in the middle of last-minute studying in the library with Yifan. After the latter had heard Zitao’s complaints about the freshman who’d stolen his favorite spot (surprisingly, he _had_ been listening), he’d made it his mission to scope out an even better one. Now, this secluded area tucked away on the second floor had become not just Zitao’s, but theirs.

 

Zitao’s revelations must distract him from the studying more than he thinks, because it’s no time at all before Yifan’s fingers ghost along his arm, catching Zitao’s attention before Yifan asks, “You okay? We can always take a break.”

 

Zitao shakes his head, but doesn’t have much success with removing the frown from his face. “No, it’s not that. It’s just…” His fingers twist together nervously. “You’re graduating this year, and I just realized I might never see you again.”

 

A hand takes Zitao’s own. “Hey, look at me.”

 

He finally meets Yifan’s eyes, and is surprised to see mirth dancing there, rather than the sad resignation he expects.

 

“The thing about business majors,” Yifan tells him with a soft smile, “is that we have a lot of options for what to do after college. What if I told you that Luhan and I are founding a startup company about an hour away from campus?”

 

“...Oh my god.”

 

“Feel a bit better now?”

 

“Oh my _god_.”

 

Yifan reaches out to affectionately ruffle Zitao’s hair (and ignores the latter’s squawk of protest). “Now get back to studying. You’d better pass your finals, or all my tutoring will have been for nothing ━ and then I just don’t know if we’ll work out.”

 

Zitao punches him in the arm, and once more when all it does is elicit more laughter.

 

Someday in the future, Zitao can see himself falling completely and truly in love with Yifan. And when that happens, he knows he’ll be able to feel the other’s emotions no matter how far apart they are. It will be a constant glow in the back of his mind, reminding him of the one who’d both acted as his anchor and brought more emotion into his life than ever before.

 

But for now, he has a mission from Yifan that he really needs to succeed in, with the (baseless) threat of a breakup....

 

Zitao ends up with an A on every test.

 

~END~


End file.
